THE CURE FOR DEPRESSION IS THE IMPENDING APOCALYPSE

As usual, now that my birthday has passed I feel better.  Some subconscious thing of "well, I've already done another year, I guess one more won't hurt."  But this morning I woke up and instead of thinking "I'm still here, meh."  I thought, "Well, by the time 2024 comes around the human habitat collapse will be apparent and either my political skill set will be (recognised and) needed, or the mothership will surely come to shepherd me home." 

A big part of the whole depression is not just all that I lament in my last post, and being middle aged and never having made it and such, but also that I truly believe given the proper resources, I could make a huge difference in the St. Louis area.  But trying to do it alone is so overwhelming.  Even if I were younger. 

I just want to say again, if you are also feeling despair to the point of feeling suicidal, or go to bed at night half hoping you won't wake up, that you absolutely must have faith in the fact that if you are waking up, you are meant to.  

And I don't say that lightly.  I have had suicidal nervous breakdowns.  In 1992 I had one and at the time I was completely empirical.  If humans could not see it or measure it, it wasn't real.  No gods at all.  No spirits. Etc. I was in complete denial about my gifts. And that breakdown I embraced them, and that changed my life.  Since then it has been a 30 year journey, 31 actually, and I continue to learn and grow every day.  

There is no time on the other side.  It's not an endless string of days, it's all days.  The days you will live, have lived, might have lived, and have yet to live.  All together at once. I've only glimpsed this a bit, and like a dream, once you exit the vision it is hard to hold onto, but I assure you that you continue to exist and often continue living this life (in a slightly different atomic arrangement) or you will move onto another life, or you will watch over your loved ones that remain here. 

You know the probable life you will lead before you incarnate. And the larger part of you remains on the other side.  You do have the power to end your life here, but it makes it very difficult to reassemble yourself when you do that.  Suicide effectively separates you from your larger self.  It denies everything but the awfulness you are experiencing in this incarnation. (There are some spirits that seem to survive or overcome this, but really it seems like the best thing to do is just wait.  If it is as bad as it feels your self on the other side will negotiate a way out for you.) 

So hang in there as best you can. These last two months have been pretty hideous for me, and honestly, in terms of my day to day life, they don't look like they are going to get better, but I remind myself that I knew what I was in for when I came here.  And in addition to the breakdowns, there have been times where I almost died by accident or otherwise, and made a choice to stay. 

Trust that you belong here. Remember that no matter how this life seems from the side of the living, on the other side it is equal with every other life that has been lived- yours and everyone else's. The pauper and the prince are truly equal. 

Just do one day at a time and try to focus on the positive things, the things that make you feel better, even if those things are the fact that humans are going to boil this planet and the water shortage is coming.  Lots of people will die, especially in developed countries.  Monetary wealth will be useless and the grid will shut down.  You will for a few moments have the satisfaction of being able to say I told you so. (I know, that is mean, but after Trump and Covid I think most of humanity is shite. Maybe  I will have a different opinion when I am on the other side, or when the misery spreads to the American middle classes.)

So cheer up, soon everyone else will be just as, if not more, miserable than you.*

LOL

And in other news: Mercury goes direct tomorrow morning.  Don't expect the mass exodus or the all the weird shit to stop, though.  The voluntary evacuation is still happening, and also The Powers That Be (including Mother Nature) are still trying to wake up the sleeping masses. 

xxoo 

(This image is way too cheery for this post but I like it and it is appropriate.) 

* PS- I do recommend doomsday prepping rainwater collection, gardens, camp stoves. solar panels, HAM radios, and having your personal network organized. Also, any supply chain jobs are good right now, because you will be aware of the breakdowns in the grid before they become obvious to the public.  

LIFE IS JUST LIVING

 My birthday is tomorrow.

I had a premonition a while back that I was going to die this birthday.  Kept seeing my apartment bare, me gone, my car at an auction, and I was out in Cali staying at friend’s house.  (The bright spot was this blog was getting hundreds of hits! Bunch of people were actually reading my stories and other writing!  And a lot of things I have done that have gone unacknowledged were being recognised.)

Thought it was the eviction, maybe I lost my shit and got shot by the sheriffs or something? An ending like that to my life would surprise no one. (Also thought maybe my stalker who is a killer got me- but he has disappeared.  But then there are so many other people who hate me.) Then the ARPA money came through, the landlords were paid, and I got a reprieve. 

Still kept having those visions.  And a constant nagging feeling to get all my passwords and emergency contacts together, sort out stuff so that someone could get my family stuff out of here, write letters to people I had things to say to.  Realised that in my vision, I was in Cali but only seeing one friend, was not going anywhere.  Realised said friend is one of the few people I will be able to interact with when I am dead. Realised I wasn’t going on vacation.

Freaked out about it a little bit. We are hardwired to resist death. But when I started to really think about it, my only real concern was my mother, and to a lesser extent my sibling.  And that if I have anything my family might need that they may not be able to get to it. There were a few people that I genuinely wished I had said something too, but not enough to actually write the letters.

Also, in the vision, all my stuff was just tossed or given away.  Nothing was preserved, etc. I would have had to find someone to come and deliver those letters and such, and I didn't want to talk about it. And I also realised that there were so few people that I knew well enough to ask that sort of thing of, and also what a thankless task it would be, sorting through all my shit.

And the biggest realisation: I felt mostly relieved.  I have so much to offer, so much I could be doing, but even finding two people to be on a board for 501(c)3 has been a challenge.  When I was younger I could do things on my own dime, always had a little and had the energy. But I am just worn out. Being stuck in St. Louis (there is a reason I left, and I wish I had worked to bring my mom to LA and not returned here. But I did.) This constant fear of something breaking down, or an emergency expense, all of my health issues that I can’t afford to take care of, even when I am working at a decent job with decent insurance.  Never being able to have a real vacation. 

And I look around at all the truly shitty people in the world and I just see that the more selfish and greedy and dishonesty- particularly emotional dishonesty- the more they thrive.  All these years I spent thinking that I would write something great and always failing- maybe it wasn’t my writing, maybe it is that I will never be “relatable” to these humans.

Turns out my reading list was the thing that I really cared about.  I have really been trying to get a good look at the afterlife- in particular what my afterlife would be, and if I would be able to finish these books.  And that answer is really complicated, and partly yes and partly no, but bottom line is, if I really feel like it is my soul’s purpose to read some books, I’d best stay here, if I can. Because it is just not the same on the other side and it is as big, if not bigger, a transition as moving around the world to somewhere completely new and foreign.  (And also, conversely, completely old and familiar.  I hope you can follow what I am saying.)

I did not come to this life to have what every body else has. I came here to see as many lives and as much of this life as I could.  I came to be part of big things, even if I was only a small part of them.  And for the first 35 years of my life I feel like did that.  Yes, I was a mess, suicidal twice during that time, crazy, but I did do some many things, meet so many people, have so many wonderful experiences.

And in July 2007- long story for another time, and maybe you have already heard it- when my spirits told me, with some surprise that I had continued to live when that was to have been my death, and showed me the path that would have happened for family without me, and told me that now it was all new, unmapped going forward, I thought I could still achieve my goals to write something that would really matter- to me and to other people.

And here I am 15 years later, and I just don’t even want to leave my house and I wish I could just read without having to stop to work or eat or wash or whatever. I guess if a big chunk of money fell in my lap and I could go on vacay and go to Scotland (big chunk of my reading is books about Gaelic, Scotland, the Celts, etc.) and get my little One Minute Revolution org going and funded, maybe I would feel thrilled, but I’ve tried so many times to get it or something like it going. I have no hope for anything anymore. (Other than books.  Reading is always rewarding, and if it isn't I just shut that book and move to the next. Working at the library, though, that was enough to make a lesser person suicidal.  Wish I had never worked there and never suffered that disillusionment.)

Like my stories and books and poems, it is on my agenda and not anyone else’s, and maybe it would not do any of things I think it would.

So, I didn’t die.  And some of the other things I saw have not happened- or, to be more precise, have happened in a different configuration and with lesser impact than I had foreseen. And all I see before me is more crappy jobs, more stress about my health and my car, more deterioration ( I will be moving April 1^st to a new place but it will be more expensive and really just a lateral move.  Another crappy apartment... actually I will be moving if I can manage to hold everything together.  The possibility I will be moving into my car is ever present.)

I wonder now if it wasn't some sort of test?  All the motherships are here, and all the old gods, and there is a massive “voluntary evacuation” call going out constantly via the astral channels.  I’m not suicidal, and for me that is not an option.  (I think for most it is spectacularly bad idea, although recently there seem to be a few spirits who have not suffered the consequences for it- either via their life contracts or that mess they get stuck in.  Essentially, in committing suicide you lock yourself into the very feelings you were trying to escape and it is difficult to get out of them. You nullify all the good in your life. Or, at least, that is how many of the suicides I have encountered have been.)

This world could be so great, but it is going to have to get a lot worse before people begin to do anything.  And even if people do start doing something now, it is still going to be a mess for quite awhile. Someone exiting now, even if they immediately re-incarnate, will suffer less because the bad shit will be their starting point.  It won’t be a decline.  Easier to be a child in a dying world than an old person.

For almost two months now my earworm has been Spike singing “Life’s not a song/ life isn’t bliss/ it’s living.” 

Spike is right.  It’s just living.  Doesn’t matter if the world is shit, if you are depressed, if you made it to the top or lived under someone’s bootheel your whole life, you lived.  That is all this world is about, living in it.

And on the other side, once you actually move out of the Bardos and the various purviews of different afterlifes, there doesn’t seem to be much difference in how a life was lived.  The spirits I talk to that were way more depressed, oppressed, messed up, fed up, etc, than I am say that from their perspective they were no different than a king, or a celebrity, or a hero.

Still, it would be nice if life would “Give me something/ To sing about!”

Cheers, and as always, thanks for listening.

https://youtu.be/Sv8uRVLN5Dc?t=212

THREE KINGS NIGHT

May you have an illuminating Epiphany!

Here is a poem about the birth of the Solar Deity's true avatar, and how those wise men that felt his coming and sought him out, in the end, saw that with his birth came the death of the world they lived in.

The flash of light reveals all the things in the darkness, that once seen shall never be unseen again.

The Journey Of The Magi

A cold coming we had of it,

Just the worst time of the year

For a journey, and such a long journey:

The ways deep and the weather sharp,

The very dead of winter.'

And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory,

Lying down in the melting snow.

There were times we regretted

The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,

And the silken girls bringing sherbet.

Then the camel men cursing and grumbling

and running away, and wanting their liquor and women,

And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,

And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly

And the villages dirty and charging high prices:

A hard time we had of it.

At the end we preferred to travel all night,

Sleeping in snatches,

With the voices singing in our ears, saying

That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,

Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;

With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,

And three trees on the low sky,

And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.

Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,

Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,

And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.

But there was no information, and so we continued

And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon

Finding the place; it was (you might say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,

And I would do it again, but set down

This set down

This: were we led all that way for

Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly

We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,

But had thought they were different; this Birth was

Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.

We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,

But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,

With an alien people clutching their gods.

I should be glad of another death.

By  T.S. Eliot from https://allpoetry.com/the-journey-of-the-magi

By James Tissot - Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2006, 00.159.30_PS1.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10195787